Frank Nitti’s Famous

In the three places I’ve worked in my adult life, I’ve noticed that guys that work together tend to eat together.  There’s a little comraderie with sharing food at work with the guys you work with.  Especially if it’s the kind of job where you eat on top of of something that’s not a lunch table.  It’s the first place a new employee really becomes part of the crew.  It’s where you start to share your personal life.  I’ve heard many stories about my coworkers while breaking bread.  It’s also one of the last initiation rites.  You’re officially part of the crew when they share the crew food with you.

Every group has their food.  At my first job with the Census it was Arby’s, at UPS it was the buffalo chicken pizza – which sounds disgusting, but truth be told there should be rehab clinics set up specializing in this pie.  But here at my current office, the crew food is becoming the Frank Nitti.

Now Frank Nitti historically was one of Al Capone’s crew who flipped on Al and helped Eliot Ness and the Untouchables put him away.  In modern terms the Frank Nitti is a white five cheese pizza.  The origional Frank Nitti was plain, and was termed the prototype.  The Frank Nitti 1.0.  Today we experimented with the Frank Nitti 1.1 with the addition of some shredded sausage.  The pizza was good.  And when I tell you good, I mean it was so good I can imagine a brick front store somewhere in South Philly with a green white and red sign reading “Frank Nitti’s Famous”.  Half the menu being your standard pizzeria fare, the other half being The Frank Nitti in all it’s glorious variations.  The Veggie Nitti with thinly sliced tomatoes and broccoli, the Chicken Nitti with chunks of fried chicken.  Maybe even a Sauce Nitti, a more traditional pizza.  But true patrons of Frank Nitti’s Famous would only order a Frank Nitti.  The origional, the prototype.  A plain Nitti.  And we would be worth a million damn dollars.

The only problem is the name.  Calling it Frank Nitti’s Famous is just an invitation for mobsters.  And honestly, I’d be okay with our place becoming a gangster hang-out.  I’ve got no problems with my Italian brothers and sisters.  But the IRS would be crawling all over the place, and pizza joints are a cash business.

I still think there’s a fortune to be made under a sign that reads “Frank Nitti’s Famous Pizza”.  Our motto would be “Fuck New York AND Chicago, pizza starts here.”

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